Fortunately, Pleasure Was Not Triggered

Looking at the room after the battle, Harley frowned slightly.

She had expected to scavenge some benefits, as the remains of a demigod could be crafted into simple Sealed Artifacts.

However, Harley hadn't expected the opponent to be so resolute, directly unleashing a suicidal ability that left not even ashes of his entire body.

This left Harley feeling quite regretful, as the ashes of the strong always possessed certain special effects.

As for the threat posed by that gray light, Harley wasn't particularly wary of it.

Voldemort claimed he wasn't in his prime, but was Harley? Who wasn't fighting while severely injured?

As for Voldemort's boast that he couldn't die, Harley found it laughable.

The Seer demigods of the Mithraic Order also claimed they couldn't die, with several individuals—whether Sequence 3 or 4, it was unclear—who could infinitely use Marionette Substitution to save their lives.

In the end, the Mithraic Order still lived like rats in a gutter, never daring to show their faces. Any orthodox church could suppress and crush them.

Occasionally, a few particularly arrogant ones would appear, but they wouldn't last long before being beaten into Sealed Artifacts by the Red Gloves of the Evernight Goddess.

The saints of the Aurora Order, who claimed to have mastered the magic of flesh and blood, could recover from any injury, no matter how severe.

Yet, in Harley's long life, she had seen those saints replaced countless times, with many being beaten to death by the monster hunters of the Church of the God of Combat.

Even in her own prime, when she was known as the Witch of Immortality, Harley knew better than anyone how to kill herself.

Therefore, Harley didn't believe in the existence of immortal beings. So-called immortality was simply a failure to find the correct way to kill them.

Thus, the only thing that made Harley unhappy about this battle was that she hadn't secured any loot.

No, it couldn't be said she hadn't secured any loot. After a quick cleanup, Harley looked at a red stone in her hand.

"So Voldemort came for a Life Stone? He wanted to reconstruct his body?" Harley muttered to herself, looking at the stone in her hand.

In her long life, Harley had once spent some time at sea.

There, she had met people from the Church of Mother Earth.

Consequently, she naturally knew of the "Ancient Alchemist" sequence, and she knew they could refine a magical Life Stone, said to be capable of healing all wounds and even reconstructing a body.

At the time, Harley was still a Witch of Despair, and she had naturally been very eager for a Life Stone.

After all, with this thing, one could extend their lifespan, recover from injuries, and in a pinch, it was equivalent to having an extra life.

But this Life Stone had nothing to do with Harley. Since Professor Dumbledore had personally brought out this Life Stone to bait Voldemort, he must have tampered with it to track its location.

More importantly, this Life Stone no longer contained much vitality or magic; it was nearly scrap.

Presumably, that was the reason Professor Dumbledore was willing to use this Life Stone as bait!

Since that was the case, Harley naturally wouldn't look for trouble by keeping the Life Stone for herself.

She just wondered what expression Voldemort would have if he knew the truth—that the item he risked his life to steal was merely a piece of junk.

Harley tossed the Philosopher's Stone in front of the Magic Mirror and left the room without looking back.

It was nearly four in the morning; she needed to hurry and get some sleep, and think of a suitable excuse to face Professor Dumbledore after waking up.

Professor Dumbledore was so powerful that he surely had ways to monitor everything that happened here.

Therefore, concealment wasn't a wise choice; it would be better to find a way to mislead him, or only tell part of the truth while hiding her deepest secrets.

Upon returning to the dormitory, despite being incredibly exhausted, Harley still chose to take a proper shower to wash away the dust.

Afterward, she collapsed onto her bed, not forgetting to casually lift the deep sleep curse on her three roommates.

If others found out tomorrow that the four people in Harley's room couldn't be woken up no matter how hard they tried, that would be a huge problem.

The next morning, Harley felt her nose tickling, and warm air was blowing into her ear.

She turned over in a daze, feeling as though she had pressed down on something soft, and a gasp sounded in her ear.

However, the overly exhausted Harley didn't pay it any mind.

After some time, Harley finally woke up. She rubbed the corners of her eyes, noticing that her sleeping posture today was slightly unrefined, as she seemed to be lying face down on a pillow.

After all, only Harley's silk pillow had such a soft texture.

Harley climbed up, her eyes still closed, subconsciously rubbing her eyes before stretching.

Only after becoming fully awake did Harley open her eyes and see Hermione staring at her, dumbfounded...

Hermione?

Harley opened her mouth wide and began to struggle to recall last night:

It seemed that after showering and putting on her pajamas, she had been so exhausted that she had climbed into bed without even confirming which one was hers.

Thinking of this, Harley felt a surge of tension, desperately searching her memory, hoping that the instincts of the Pleasure Witch hadn't been triggered.

Confirming that she hadn't activated her core abilities, Harley finally let out a breath, and her rapid heartbeat calmed down.

However, Hermione's heart was far from calm.

"Harley... why did you end up in my bed last night?" the young girl asked in a low voice, her face blushing.

The last sentence was almost a whisper. If not for the enhanced hearing the Assassin path had granted Harley, she definitely wouldn't have heard it clearly.

"Get up quickly! I'm starving, I'm going to go eat breakfast."

Hermione let out a "mm" in a voice as soft as a mosquito, but she didn't move.

Harley didn't pay it any mind, quickly slipping back into her own tent to change her clothes. The filthy night-suit from yesterday had been tossed into a basket by Harley.

By now, the night-suit had already vanished. By the following evening, the clothes would be clean and neatly laid out on Harley's bed.

Whenever this happened, Harley would marvel at how convenient and all-encompassing magic was.

Perhaps magic's combat prowess wasn't as strong as a Sequence Pathway, but when it came to daily life assistance, magic absolutely crushed Sequence Pathways in every aspect.

After Harley had finished changing, Hermione finally crawled out of her tent, blushing and acting all bashful.

Harley chuckled softly and headed toward the washroom. Having reverted to the Pleasure Witch, Harley felt much better.

After enjoying breakfast with Hermione, Hedwig brought a letter to Harley.

The letter featured the same loopy, circular handwriting as the card that had been tucked inside the Invisibility Cloak at Christmas.

The signature was from Dumbledore, and he hoped Harley would pay a visit to his office.

(Thanks to lueluelue guess who for the tip!)

(Thanks to Nine-Tailed Flame Fox for the tip!)

(Thanks to Python of the End God-Slaying Serpent for the tip!)

I almost got flagged by the censors and had to pull back my "divine technique." Thanks to some of the big shots in the author group for the heads-up, allowing me to pull back from the brink and letting this chapter meet everyone.